Wings To Dance On
by AdventureThief
Summary: There is always a moment, right before he lands, in which Castiel feels like he is flying. In the privacy of a quiet auditorium, Cas tries to achieve that singular feeling, little does he know he has an audience. AU in which Cas is studying dance at a university and Dean unwittingly stumbles across him. Desitel.
1. Chapter 1

The ground rushed up at him and he met it with grace, landing solidly on the ball of his foot before launching back into the air with a flourish. He pressed his arms outward, soaring across the stage, listening only to the thudding of his feet and the mournful whine of the portable disc player he had brought with him. The air attempted to resist him, but Castiel lunged forward cutting through the resistance with ease. He lived for this feeling.

Distantly, he heard the click of one of the auditorium doors sliding into place, but his mind was elsewhere and he dismissed the gentle echo. The song climaxed in a cacophony of crying violins and straining brass instruments. With a rehearsed breath, Castiel flung himself upwards, muscles stretching to push him as high as possible. For a moment, he flew.

All he knew was the feeling of the air brushing his hair from his face and the trumpeting of his pulse in his ears. The moment lasted no longer than usual and he landed with a solid step, barreling into his next move. As the music slowly dwindled, so did the fervor of his dancing. Castiel's toes traced the last of his movements before the piece finally ended and he stood poised in the center of the stage where he began.

His heart still beat out the rhythm of the song in his veins, quick and sad, but it was over, replaced by the huffing of his breath. His chin pressed against his chest where he stood, arms flung to his sides like bare wings, feathers molted into sinewy arms. _How he ached for real wings_.

He stayed there, motionless, as he came down from the emotion of the piece. He choreographed it himself, bleeding his dismantled hopes into the rehearsed steps, counting in time to the mournful bleating of the song. It was a private piece, secreted away from the critical eyes of his family and teachers. It was not technically beautiful or entertaining, the moves didn't transition well into one another and he didn't engage the whole stage like he should have. The voices of his professors trickled through the fuzz of his thoughts. It was why he hadn't shown anyone. It wasn't supposed to be for anyone else. It wasn't a performance. _It was his aching heart expressed by his body._

A muted shuffling caught his ear and his head shot up, eyes darting about the auditorium. A shadow of a figure stopped suddenly in its creeping towards the exit.

"Stop. Who are you?" Castiel demanded. He was suddenly very embarrassed and very angry. Earlier he had heard the door, but the noise wasn't accompanied by footsteps and he had assumed that whoever had popped their head in had left in disinterest.

The gentle slope of the figure's shoulders betrayed guiltiness. The person quietly made their way forward,

"Sorry. I-uh, I didn't mean to... Well, I heard the music and I thought..." the man's voice trailed off as he crept into the halo of light by the stage. "I didn't mean to intrude, but you were dancing and-"

Castiel interrupted the man when as a grin slipped onto his face. The man was going to mock him, he knew it. He decided to halt the words before they could become etched below the list of criticisms he already held.

"It was none of you business to come in here. The room was clearly reserved for this time, _privately._" The brunette huffed the words out, watching the smirk drop from his audience's face.

The man across from him was no doubt handsome. His muddy blonde hair was classically cut and glittered in the stage lights. His eyes were vibrant and intelligent looking, a mottled green from what Castiel could tell, and peered right back at him with unveiled interest and a hint of remorse. A well worn army green jacket hung off his shoulders, hiding what Castiel could tell was a set of wide shoulders which tapered into a solid waist. The man scuffed his faded boots against the ground.

"Yeah, I saw that, actually," the man shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets, still watching Castiel with curiosity in his eyes, "I'm sorry man."

Castiel's eyebrows twitched upwards, he hand't really been expecting an apology. A sigh of terse acceptance, a joke about his femininity or dancing, perhaps even a twinge of self righteous anger, but he hand not expected genuine remorse.

"It's... Fine. Sorry for snapping, I suppose."

The man accepted his apology with another shrug before flopping into one of the seats in front of the stage.

"No worries," the blonde quipped, "I'm Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester." Castiel balked a little at the audacity the man, Dean, had, to continue to impose himself upon Castiel's reserved time slot. Did he not have any idea how difficult it was to reserve this stage? He turned around, deciding he might as well pack up.

Dean huffed, "Well, who are you?"

Castiel slipped into his shoes, contemplating for a few seconds if he should even answer Dean before he turned again to face the intruder with a sigh.

"I'm Castiel." He had never been good at ignoring people.

Dean grinned, "Nice to meet you, Cas. So, uh, you're a dancer?"

"It's not Ca- never mind." Castiel didn't bother to answer the second question. He continued to tuck his possessions away. He pulled a shirt over his head once his things were packed before zipping a hoodie over it.

"So- what was that dance about?"

Castiel found it very difficult to ignore the blonde when he wouldn't keep his mouth shut. He answered with a shrug, turning about to face Dean.

"Why do you care?" Castiel had never met the boy across from him in his entire career at the university. Even people he knew from school didn't show that much interest in Castiel's dancing. No one spoke to him other than to critique his performance or congratulate him on executing a difficult move well. People considered Castiel aloof, but really he suffered from social awkwardness and low self-confidence. He was curious as to why this Dean Winchester had even spared his dance a cursory glance.

The emerald eyed man shifted in discomfort. _Good._ Thought the dancer, he hoped his discomfort at the inquiry was rubbing off on the man who had violated his privacy.

"Well... It was beautiful. That's all," Dean mumbled at his feet before risking a glance into Castiel's azure gaze, "And sad."

The words brought Castiel's mind whirring to a halt. He was prepared for scoffing, mockery, criticism, or silence. For this absolute stranger to not only praise him, but to also understand the emotion behind his dancing momentarily short circuited his brain.

"You thought it was... Beautiful?"

"Yeah!" Dean responded in earnest, the blush that had crept into his face at the admission of beauty faded quickly when Castiel didn't harass him for it. "You dance like you're flying or something," a smirk twitched his cheek, "At one point, I could have sworn you had wings."

* * *

It is possible that I will continue this a little bit later, but for the moment, this is it! Thanks for reading, and let me know what you though!


	2. Chapter 2

"_At one point, I could have sworn you had wings."_

The words drew Castiel up short. For the second time in the five minutes he had know Dean Winchester, the man had managed to surprise him. Despite his original misgivings about Dean, Castiel found himself liking the blonde. Not only had he praised Castiel's dancing, but it was hard to resist the relaxed attitude that hung around Dean. From the happy creases around his eyes to the way he lounged in the plush auditorium chair, the Winchester practically oozed geniality. The edges of Castiel's mouth slid into a faint grin.

"Thanks." The dancer easily leapt from the stage to land beside Dean. "Do you dance?"

Dean's laugh burst from his mouth suddenly and Castiel fought his knee jerk reaction to be offended. He had been classically conditioned to expect all laughter around him to be on his behalf, however, Dean's throaty chuckle didn't have the same deprecative tones that his family's had, so he kept silent.

"Of course not!" Dean gasped through his laughing before catching the stiff posture of the man in front of him and quieting down, "Not that it's dumb or anything! I just... if you knew me you'd be laughing too. Let's just say I have two left feet, and that's not even the worst of it."

Castiel nodded, relaxing slightly at the response. "Well, Dean, it was nice to meet you. I hope you have a pleasant day." He shrugged his bag farther onto his shoulder before abruptly making his way to the exit.

"Wait! Cas, where're you headed?" Dean had sprung from his chair to hover at Castiel's side, following the student's decisive stride.

"Lunch. Why?" Cas didn't pause in his steps but did shift his gaze to watch Dean from the corner of his eye. He had little clue as to why the man was still concerned with him.

Dean shrugged again. Castiel was beginning to think that the motion was a staple in the boy's vocabulary. "Always asking 'why' aren't you?" Dean didn't sound like he was expecting an answer so Cas maintained his silence, "No reason. Maybe you wanna grab a bite together?"

Putting the literalness of the question from his mind, (Dean didn't actually want to bite anything in union with him, he was almost sure) Castiel responded with a mirror of Dean's own shrugging, "Sure. I was just going to the food court. You're welcome to join me."

A brilliant grin split Dean's face, "Great!"

They met at a clean square table. Dean's lunch consisted of a classic American burger piled high with cheese and bacon. What Castiel could only assume was a highly caffeinated and carbonated drink also stood alongside a large order of fries on the boy's tray. Castiel contemplated his own meal as he sat down. A turkey sandwich, an apple, and a large bottle of water sat rather unimpressively on his own tray. A small surge of jealously colored his cheeks. If he was caught eating anything like that by his family he wouldn't hear the end of it for months. He shrugged the feeling off with a roll of his shoulders before turning his attention to Dean.

Dean sat patiently at the table. He had arrived at least five minutes before the dancer, but had yet to touch his food. His eyes were trained on Castiel, waiting for him to get settled before moving to grab his food. Another one of the man's radiant smiled beamed out at Cas as he sat.

The brunette hesitantly answered the expression with a quirk of his own lips, contemplating Dean's mannerisms. The notion to wait before eating was outdated but Castiel still appreciated the romanticism of the gesture. Secretly thought the world would be a lot better off if everyone behaved like they they were living in a Jane Austin novel. He wouldn't admit it aloud though, people already thought him feminine enough.

"So Cas," Dean began, a french fry poised at his mouth, "I'm assuming you're here for dance." He dropped the fry into his mouth, looking across the table expectantly.

It wasn't much of a question, but Castiel nodded regardless. "I managed to get in on a scholarship. My tuition is fully paid for by the school contingent upon a 3.5 GPA and that I perform in at least three of the school shows."

Dean nodded in response, a large bite of burger slowly being masticated in his mouth. Castiel politely waited for him to swallow before asking, "What are you studying?"

A faint rouge colored the cheeks of the man opposite Cas and he answered slowly, "I'm not actually enrolled at the university."

Castiel eyed the blonde, he was far too young to be a professor and well underdressed for that matter. "Are you visiting someone on campus?"

"Not really, no."

He was beginning to get annoyed with Dean's obvious avoidance of a decisive answer. "Well then, why are you here, Dean Winchester?"

A drawn out sigh slipped into the air between them before Dean finally uttered, "I... work here."

Perhaps he was a professor. It wasn't often that the university hired such young teachers, but maybe Dean was a graduate assistant or something. "What department do you work in?" Cas asked.

Another low breath before, "Janitorial services."

"Oh."

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his chair, eyes skimming across the table to read Cas's reaction without meeting his eyes. The brunette cocked his head to the side, he had never been very proficient at reading body language, but Dean was clearly distressed. Castiel saw the blush creeping up the man's neck.

"That's nothing to be embarrassed about, Dean."

Another shrug- but Dean's eyes darted up to meet Cas's own, searching for something. Castiel was struck with by the realization that Dean thought Castiel might suddenly abandon him because of his lackluster profession. He could have almost laughed at the irony. Not even an hour earlier Castiel himself had be worried about the same sort of rebuff from Dean because of his dancing. It seemed the both of them were unnecessarily cautious.

"Really, Dean. I could not care less." Castiel wondered how many people had mocked Dean for him to be so nervous. The boy sat a little straighter in his chair, "Yeah? Okay." This time the grin didn't quite leave the corners of his mouth, but to Castiel, it didn't seem any less sincere.


	3. Chapter 3

_The grin didn't quite leave the corners of his mouth, but to Castiel, it didn't seem any less sincere._

They sat eating with small breaks for companionable chatter for a little over an hour before Dean glanced at his watch with a guilty expression.

"Hey, Cas, I've really got to go... I was supposed to go back on shift fifteen minutes ago."

"Of course, Dean. It was lovely finally having someone to eat with. I usually sit alone during lunch."

"Yeah, me too. Would you maybe want to eat together again tomorrow?" There was a naked hope in Dean's eyes that Castiel could not have denied if he had wanted to.

"Sure. I'd love to. Same place and time tomorrow?"

Dean nodded his affirmation while tugging something out of his pocket.

"Any chance I could get your number? Just in case." He grinned as Castiel plucked his phone from his pocket.

For a few weeks they continued in the same manner, grabbing lunch and talking amiably over their food. The topics of their conversations varied from cars (which Dean was obsessive about) to politics (neither of them followed the news too closely) to, one day, family.

They had been slowly learning more about each other at their daily lunch date until Castiel figured he could write a short novel on 'The Things Dean Winchester Did and Did Not Like and the Varying Degrees to Which he Liked Them'. For example, Dean loved fixing cars and actually had a second job at his Uncle's auto shop where he was slowly restoring a '67 Chevy Impala. He had already named the car 'Baby' and insisted she be referred to as such.

Dean hated health food, and only ate it when he had no other options. The one exception was fresh cherries. He loved sports, mostly American football, but would watch almost any sport on the television (minus golf which he described as a boring excuse to 'whack balls', pun intended).

The two had been dancing around the topic of families the entire time. Slowly, they worked their way from high schools (Dean had gone to Lawrence High in Kansas while Castiel attended a private Catholic high school in Indiana) to their basic goals in life (Castiel obviously wanted to become a professional dancer, or at least that's what he told Dean and Dean wanted to own his Uncle's auto shop, or at least that's what he told Cas).

It was on their fourth week of sharing lunch when Castiel decided to dive into the one topic they had both been avoiding.

"Dean, do you have any family?" Castiel had never been one for subtly, but that sounded a little blunt, even to his own ears.

Dean choked on the mouthful of pizza he was currently hocking down before swallowing hard. "Well, yeah. Of course I _have_ family. I'm not an orphan." He threw a bemused grin at Castiel, "I have a brother, Sam, and my dad, and Uncle Bobby."

Cas nodded, "And your mother, is she..." he trailed off.

Dean's eyes darted to his lap where he placed his hands. There was a moment of tense silence where Castiel discovered the true meaning of putting one's foot in one's mouth.

"She's- uh... She died... When I was about four." he didn't look up from his hands.

The dancer could do little but mumble a sincere, "I'm sorry."

Dean nodded, glancing up to Cas with a lopsided and sad smile, "Yeah, me too." He shrugged, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair and cocking his head to the side, "How 'bout you Cas? You got a family?"

"Yes." he responded simply taking a bite of his salad. Now that he had pried the information from Dean he found himself reluctant to submit to the same line of questioning.

The green eyed man chuckled, "Yeah, and?" he urged the brunette across from him with an eager look. Cas sighed, twirling his fork in his fingers before setting it down.

"I have a father and a mother and many siblings." Castiel took a sip of his water before continuing, "Michael is the oldest followed by Lucifer, Balthazar, and then me. We're very close to our extended family so I see my cousins a lot. My mother left my father when I was young, so I haven't seen her in a few years." Cas wondered if his face held the same wobbly sadness that Dean's had a few moments ago. He looked up at Dean.

Cas got caught in Dean's rather bemused expression. He never seemed to stop startling the man. He waited for Dean to respond with something other than rapid blinking and arched eyebrows.

"So- uh- Who named Lucifer? That's a pretty _rare_ name."

The dancer found himself glad that Dean hadn't pressed him for more intimate facts.

"My mother did, as a joke on my father. He named Michael without my mother's approval so when Lucifer came about she signed the birth certificate before Father could say anything. I was told she said that Michael wasn't complete without Lucifer, that they need each other to bring about the end of days." here Cas shrugged, "We usually call him Luke though."

A smile split Dean's face and a chuckle tumbled from his lips, "Weird, but kind of awesome. I think I would have liked your mom. She sounds like my sort of lady."

Castiel nodded, "From what I remember she was very lovely. She always had a smile on, except when she and Father would argue. She left a few days before my eighth birthday. But she writes me sometimes."

The smile dripped off of Dean's face, replaced by a solemn attentiveness, "Do you know why she left? I mean... If you don't mind my asking."

"My father and she disagreed on many of things. One of them was the Church. She didn't like my father pushing all of us into it so forcefully. One day he told her that if she didn't want God in her life then fine but he wasn't condemning his children to Hell because he married a deviant. I think she was tired of the conflict and the constriction that he insisted upon."

"That's rough, man."

Castiel shrugged, "She's the reason I started dancing. When I was younger, I remember we'd always twirl around in the living room. One day she signed me up for lessons and I never stopped taking them." he found the corners of his mouth curving as he met Dean's verdant gaze, "I like it here very much."

Dean grinned around a mouthful of pepperoni, "Me too."

* * *

_Hey guys! Sorry it took so long. I don't have any of this planned out so it takes a while to figure it out. I will definitely do better! Also- thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, or added this to their alerts list! You guys rock! I honestly wasn't expecting that much attention, so it's been awesome. I'm very open to critiques and ideas for this story, so let me know what you think, and thank you so much for your attention._


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I seemed to have forgotten to mention this, but I do NOT claim to own any of the characters or elements from the show Supernatural. This is a purely not-for-profit story written by an adoring fan._

* * *

Castiel toed his way across the lunchroom, carefully tracing his way towards the table that he and Dean had been frequenting over the last few months. A smile slid onto his face as he recalled the past few weeks. School had been a little hellish, like usual, with tens of hours of practice spent in the dance studio and very little friendly interaction with his classmates, but his relationship with Dean had blossomed. Over the years, he had forgotten how nice it was to have a close friend and, though he wouldn't dare admit it to the man, he could hardly imagine how he had handled his life before Dean.

They spent nearly every afternoon of the last two and a half months talking through their lunch breaks. Every moment spent with Dean found Castiel more attached to their fledgling friendship. In Castiel's eyes, Dean was loyal and refreshingly funny. He had yet to test the theory, but Castiel was positive that Dean would drop anything to help a friend, himself included. A warm bubble filled his chest at the thought.

When their table finally came into view across the crowded lunch hall, Castiel stumbled to a halt. He could easily see Dean's iconic leather clad shoulders but that wasn't what caused him to stagger. There was _someone else_ at _their_ table. The mere presence of the other person didn't bother Castiel, he was well aware that Dean would have other friends as he was a very likable person. But the _someone else_ had a well muscled arm thrown across Dean's shoulders in a casual manner borne of repetition.

A strange tickle replaced the warm feeling at the sight of the other boy embracing Dean. Castiel wasn't naive enough to deny that he was feeling jealous, but the feeling was foreign. It caused him another pause in his advancement towards the table.

He tried to convince himself to ignore the strange new emotion. What right did he have to feel jealous? He had no claim over Dean or the people he allowed to embrace him. Clearly he was overreacting. At twenty years old he had no right to be possessive over the people he'd not even known for three months. His father would call him infantile.

With the stern voice of his father in his head telling him to _stop acting like such a child_ he squared his shoulders and continued to his regular seat. Up close Castiel noted that the stranger was a bit younger than Dean but every inch as attractive. He was at least a whole head taller than the janitor with brown hair which fell in a small curtain to frame his shapely jaw. Both Dean and the stranger turned to watch him as he approached.

"Hey, Cas!" Dean called with a great smile splitting his face. He shrugged off the arm of the stranger and walked over to stand by Castiel where the brunette still stood holding his sack lunch. He flung an arm around Cas's shoulders much in the same manner as the stranger before, with practiced ease and familiarity.

"Sam, this is the guy I've been telling you about, Cas. Cas, this is my younger brother, Gigantor." And that was all it took for Castiel to feel every bit like the five year old his father so frequently accused him of being. A deep flush colored his cheeks, bred half of embarrassment at his private fit of needless jealousy and half of the weight of Dean's strong hand on his shoulder.

Cas knew all about Sam Winchester; Dean hardly took a breath in between talking about his younger brother and eating. The initial discussion regarding family opened the flood gates for Dean on the topic of Sam. The teen was apparently about three years younger than his brother and thus was in his junior year of high school. He was also at least half genius if Dean's accolades were anything to judge by. According to Dean, Sam was set to not only graduate at the top of his class, but was in line to get a full ride scholarship to Stanford University in California. Whenever Dean mentioned the school he pulled a complicated expression which Castiel situated between proud devastated.

Castiel smiled at the younger brother who was still seated, his jealously vanishing with a quiet sigh, "Nice to finally meet you, Sam. Dean never stops talking about you. He seems very proud of you."

He could almost hear Dean's eye roll and grimace. "Ca-as!" Dean drew out the one syllable moniker with his childlike drawl, "Why'd you have to go and sell me out like that? Now Sam's gonna think I'm just as girly as he is!"

Sam glared at his brother, "I am not _girly_, Dean. Just because I can talk about my feelings-"

Dean cut him off, "Like a lady. Keep growing your hair out like that and you'll look the part too, Samantha." He withdrew his arm from around the dancer and plunked back into his seat next to Sam, "Can I offer you a barrette?" He tugged mockingly on a stray piece of hair at Sam's forehead.

The junior knocked the hand away, "Very funny, Dean." He turned back to face Cas, ignoring his brother's cackling, "It's nice to meet you too, Cas. Dean never shuts up about you either. He talked about your dance for about a week before he finally came up for air." A smirk lit up Sam's face as Dean groaned beside him.

"You two have a fan club for emasculating me or something?"

They both ignored him as Castiel set his tray down and sat in front of Sam. The idea that Dean had enjoyed his dance still surprised him. Now that Sam had confirmed it, Castiel felt another surge of warm affection for his new friend. He fought off the cheshire grin which was about to split his face and attempted to continue polite the polite conversation.

"Sam, I hear you're going to Stanford on a full scholarship. That is quite an achievement. Congratulations."

"Thanks," a light blush colored Sam's cheeks, "Dean's the one who pushed me to apply so early. I'm really excited."

"Good. Dean says you hope to go into law. Could I ask why?"

"Of course. Well, uh- our dad used to be a marine before our mom died," Castiel nodded, Dean had told him this much, "And I figured that where he helped protect people physically, I could help them legally." Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel managed to witness the soft smile Dean wore when he thought no one was watching.

"That's a great reason to choose such a profession, Sam."

The high schooler smiled graciously back at Castiel, "Thanks, Cas."

Castiel nodded at the teen in response before turning back to Dean who sat silently with the corners of his mouth upturned into a satisfied smile.

"What?" Castiel questioned, worried he had said something out of turn. His family seemed to be perpetually mocking him for the idiotic things he said. He worried that Dean was doing the same.

Dean's slightly bemused expression became shuttered as he met the dancer's eyes. "Oh- nothing," he paused looking back down to his tray, avoiding Castiel's azure gaze, "I was just hoping you two would get along."

* * *

_A/N: Hey guys! I'm so sorry this took so long. There aren't any excuses, but I've been traveling a bit with my family so I haven't had much time to write or post. I hope you guys are still liking it! I don't know about y'all, but I felt like the writing in the last two chapters was really passive and static, so I've tried to write a little more actively- if that makes any sense. _

_Please drop me a note to let me know how you feel about the story. I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants here, so it'd be really nice to hear your thoughts. I'm also very open to suggestions and what-not. I have a general direction for this, but not much else. As always, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you're doing wonderfully!_


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel took a seat on the scuffed wood floor of the dance studio. He tugged on the laces of his sneakers, replacing the well worn high-tops with a flexible pair of black dance shoes. He flexed his toes and stood up. After tossing his bag into an unused cubby, Castiel started his stretches as his classmates began trickling into the room.

He spread his legs into a wide 'V' and leaned down between them, reaching his hands far in front of himself. With a shift, he deepened the stretch and pointed his toes. His torso pressed into the wood flooring and his fingers drummed against the waxy finishing. Suddenly there was a fierce pain in his hand. His bones ground together as a well polished shoe tread on his pale fingers. With an aborted cry Castiel clutched his wounded hand tight to his chest.

"Oops. I didn't see you there, Odette."

"Crowley. What do you want?" Castiel picked himself off the floor and glared at the cruel man, trying desperately to not look like he was in too much pain. He didn't want to give Crowley the satisfaction.

"To spread joy and love wherever I go, of course." His self-satisfied smirk widened.

Castiel ignored the sarcasm and continued eyeing the man with mistrust. Despite the ruckus none of the other students in the room paid the two any attention. Their animosity was well known throughout the dance department. Usually Crowley travelled with a pack of mindless supporters but today his cronies were gathered quietly in a corner, observing the exchange with sneers slicing their faces. Castiel tried to ignore them along with the throbbing of his hand.

"Fine. You caught me." Crowley whined in his affected British accent, "I was curious about the new boy you've been cavorting with. He's awfully attractive for a floor-scrubber. I didn't know you had a Cinderella kink, Novack."

Taking a deep breath, Castiel squared his shoulders and clenched his fists, resisting the urge to openly react to the insults. The pain in his fingers grounded him. If he lost his head every time Crowley taunted him, he would never make it though his dance major. He pulled a deep lung full of air in through his nose and pushed it slowly out his mouth.

"Well, anyway, I was wondering whether he's deaf or dumb, because that's the only way another person could stand your company." Crowley paused, examining his nails and letting the words paint Castiel's face red. The words stung, of course, more so now that Castiel had grown accustomed to Dean's insistence that he was fun to hang out with. He'd never had very many friends, he was too quiet, too awkward, too religious. Castiel shrugged his shoulders, trying to force the words from his mind. Crowley always antagonized him, this was no different. He knew better than to respond to any of Crowley's barbs so, growing tired of the character attacks, he turned on his toes and began to walk away.

As Castiel shuffled to his bag, Crowley threw out one last remark, "But then again, I guess any guy who spends so much time on his knees must draw your attention."

Without a pause to consider his actions, Castiel spun on his toes, and let his balled fist collide solidly with the soft tissue of Crowley's throat. Crowley's knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed to the hardwood floor, not even able to gasp as he clutched at his throat.

Castiel had shouldered his bag and was darting from the room before the first call of "Monster!" echoed behind him.

He fled down the hallway, staring at the scuffed linoleum, his mind racing. He had no set destination in mind; he just wanted to escape. A deep wave of shame washed over his skin as he thought back on what Crowley had said, and what he had done in response. He could hear the echo of his father, telling him that violence was the way of thugs and fools. The phrase 'overcompensating' crept in alongside his father's scolding and he flinched.

There were few taunts that could elicit such a reaction from Castiel, and Crowley happened upon the most volatile. Cas knew that Crowley was implying that he was gay. It wasn't the first time that the other man had done so. In fact, Castiel was taunted about his sexuality almost every time he told someone he was a dancer. Usually he could brush it off with nary a glare and his standard silence, but somehow bringing Dean into the equation made him go haywire.

Castiel fought back tears as he continued down the abandoned hallway. He had been doing so well at combating his sinful urges before he met Dean. He hadn't thought about another man in a sexual way since he graduated high school. Two years later and his progress was ruined. Cas had the sudden urge to find Father Zachariah.

Father Zachariah had helped him through the roughest stages of his sexual deviancy. When Castiel first realized that he was having feelings about boys during his freshman year of high school the church had been a haven for him. Father Zachariah had always been there to remind him that he musn't give in to the gross urges of his flesh. Castiel had resigned himself to living his life without a companion. Father Zachariah supported him in that quest, reminding him that loneliness was better than damnation.

Suddenly the floor slid out from under his feet. Castiel dropped flat on his back, his head ricocheting off the damp tile floor. He blacked out.

"...as?" A gentle tap on his cheek. "...'um on man... 'ake up!" A much more solid smack on his cheek. He opened his eyes, the familiar yet undefinable nature of the voice annoying him more than the slight pain of the slapping. He blinked gummy eyes, the face above him ringing something in his memory.

"Atta' boy! I thought you were gonna literally become an angel with that little stunt of yours. You alright?"

The man above him was not a stranger, but Castiel couldn't place him. He was beautiful though. Expressive green eyes, thick chapped lips, and a jaw to cut wood with made his face.

"Let's sit you up," the man put a broad hand behind his shoulders and helped him lean up. He felt the dampness of his shirt where the man had his palm.

"What happened? Why am I wet?" He winced as his voiced echoed through the beating in his skull. He dropped his voice to a whisper, "Why does my head hurt?"

"Yeah, that's my fault. Sorry, Cas. I was mopping and you came 'round that corner like a hellhound."

Cas? _Cas?_ Dean! Everything rushed back, conveniently hitting hit right in the sore spot on his head. He must have looked sick at remembering because Dean's hand was suddenly pressed into his chest.

"Hey man. You okay?"

"Fine."

Cas brushed Dean's hands off of him, feeling dirty at taking comfort in the touch. Dean would be disgusted with him if he knew what Cas was thinking. Dean stepped away and watched him, hands flexed at his side. The dancer shuffled himself to his knees, balancing carefully as the hall swam around him. Gritting his teeth against the pounding in his head, he erected himself. For a moment he felt a silent triumph. Then the world decided to alter its axis suddenly and without warning.

Sure hands caught him before he could collapse again. He was nose to chest with Dean. The janitor lifted him up like he was child, making sure his feet were sturdy before wrapping an arm around his tapered waist, hooking Cas's own arm around his shoulders.

"Come on, man. Let's get you cleaned up."

Cas mutely accepted Dean's help, inwardly cursing his inability to support himself and his unwillingness to push Dean away.

They made it to Dean's car and later his apartment with no incident. Dean deposited him near a plain bathroom and tossed a pair of sweats and a Led Zeppelin shirt at him. When Cas had changed out of his dripping clothes, a warm mug was pressed into his hands, sweet coffee with enough whisky to soothe Castiel's aches. They sat on a hideous and mature couch which endeavored to swallow Cas whole. For a few minutes they sat in an easy peace filled with quiet sipping. Then Dean set down his cup.

"So... You gonna tell me what happened?"

* * *

_A/N:_

_Alright guys, I officially apologize for making you all wait SOOOO long. I don't know if I mentioned it or not, but school has started now and things have just been hectic. I will try to be better. Also, my grandmother passed away last Monday, so things have been doubly crazy. I really appreciate those of you who have read and reviewed, you're all feeding the fire of this story, so thank you. Also, those of you who have followed or favorited this story are my heroes!_

_I know some of the ideas from this fic are controversial, and I welcome your opinions and personal stories about your reactions, but I really don't appreciate flames. I don't have this story mapped out, but I'd like to warn you that things are probably going to continue on in this same vein. I'm likely to bring up the church again and not speak too kindly about it. If that makes you feel uncomfortable, I suggest you jump ship. :)_

_Thank you all so much for your continued support and all of your beautiful reviews. I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please drop me a note on whether or not you like the story and whatever else you have to say. Your love keeps me going!_

_Edit: Sorry for re-updating, I didn't realize that I had so many formatting errors._


	6. Chapter 6

"So... You gonna tell me what happened?"

Castiel tightened his grip around the chipped mug in his hands. His face turned pink as he scuffed his heel against the floor. In the silence, Dean picked up his coffee again, patiently waiting for Cas to spill. The brunette glanced towards Dean, worrying his lip between his teeth before dropping his gaze.

"I punched Crowley."

"You punched someone?" Dean dropped his cup onto the table with a loud thump.

Cas kept his eyes pinned on the floor.

"In the throat."

A soft chuckle startled Castiel into looking up at Dean. The laughter intensified.

"Man, Cas," his voice was colored with amusement, "I never quite pictured you as one for mindless violence."

The rosy hue to Castiel's cheeks took a darker turn, "Don't make fun of me, Dean."

"Aw, Cas. I'm not makin' fun." Dean's laughter died off as his face sobered up, "You just seem so chill all the time," he shrugged, "It's kinda unexpected to hear that you decked someone."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Cas nodded, accepting the not-quite apology. Dean lifted his mug again and swirled the liquid around, pensive. He looked up, green eyes determined.

"What the hell did this Crowley guy do?"

The flush leaked from Castiel's face and he resumed staring at the floor. His heartbeat thumped wildly in his ears at the remembered embarrassment of Crowley's remarks. Despite the trust he had in Dean, thinking about explaining Crowley's crude comment turned his stomach. What if Dean read into Crowley's remark and became disgusted at Cas? He threw a sidelong glance at his companion, trying to gauge how persistent the man would be. The straight line of his friend's mouth gave him his answer.

"He was being antagonistic, like always, and then he mentioned you."

Dean perked up, eyebrows creasing in confusion, "What the hell does that guy know about me?"

"He knows enough," Cas sighed, "He knows that you're a janitor and has seen us together and thought it would be a prime opportunity to harass me more." Cas trailed off, praying Dean would be satisfied.

Dean continued to look confused, "That can't be it, Cas. I know you better than to think you'd fly off the handle that easily, especially if this is a regular thing," Dean gave the dancer a pointed look, "What did he say?"

"Specifically," Castiel huffed, "He wondered if you were physically or mentally impaired, as my company is otherwise intolerable. Then, he made a very lewd implication that the only reason we spent time together was because I was using you for... sexual purposes."

Dean looked torn between righteous outrage on behalf of his friend and befuddlement.

"So, let me get this straight. You, Mr. Perpetually-Level-Headed, punched a dude in the throat for insinuating that we were together..." he coughed, reaching back to ruffle his hair, "Sexually?"

The brunette was thrown by Dean's relatively cavalier attitude. Shouldn't he be furious for someone assuming he was gay? Shouldn't he be banishing Castiel from his couch with oaths of his bringing such vulgarity into his appartment? The blonde didn't even look affronted by Crowley's remark, merely perplexed by Castiel's reaction.

Castiel's head canted to the right, confusion plain on his face, "Well... Yes, I did."

Dean's face tightened, eyebrows drawing together, "Why?" His mouth fell into a self conscious and crooked grin, "Am I really that repulsive?"

Cas shook his head, eyes sharp, "There is nothing wrong with you, Dean." An oft repeated catechism sprung to Castiel's lips, "Homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered. They are contrary to the natural law. They close the sexual act to the gift of life. They do not proceed from a genuine affective and sexual complementarity. Under no circumstances can they be approved."

He set his empty mug on the aged coffee table, a spec of normalcy returning to him at hearing his words aloud. He had repeated the same phrase over and over again at the behest of Father Zachariah. They did nothing to ease the tension in his gut at the prospect of a life alone, but he took comfort in their validity. As Father Zachariah was fond of reminding him, a lifetime of sin is not worth an eternity of Perdition.

Dean's jaunty grin fell at Castiel's matter-of-fact tone. His eyes widened for a moment, accented by his upturned eyebrows before the lines of his face grew tight.

"You sound like a damn Catholic Google-tron."

Castiel ruffled, offended at the exasperation in Dean's voice, but said nothing. The silence which stretched on swept Castiel's previous sense of security away. He drained the rest of his coffee in an effort to tolerate the awkward pause. Dean's soft voice broke the quiet.

"Is it really so wrong to love?"

His eyes sprung up from where they were fixed on the aged table, vivid green meeting Cas's deep blue.

"I don't really subscribe to the whole 'dude in the sky watching everything we do', but isn't the bible all about love?"

Castiel fumbled, his earlier anger at Dean's brashness momentarily forgotten, "Well, yes. But-"

"Then why the hell should it matter whether someone was born a dude or a chick- whether or not they can have kids? It's still the same love. Isn't it just as valid as anyone else's?"

No one had ever tried to convince Castiel that the opposite of the Church's teachings was true. He hadn't told his father nor anyone else in his family about his urges, and Father Zachariah never strayed from the Church's official stance. Even he hadn't dared try to justify his abnormality to himself. Another silence stretched as Dean's question hovered in the empty air.

A sudden anger surged in Castiel's chest. Who was Dean to contradict a millennia old and holy text? Castiel had spent years coming to terms with his wrongness, accepting a life of celibacy and solitude. He had read the text and talked with his priest. He had studied and prayed and accepted the truth. Dean, a nonbeliever, a mere man, had no right to pick apart the lines of the bible and warp them to fit his personal philosophy. He had no right to try to vindicate Castiel's illness.

"It isn't valid at all. Any homosexual act is a sin and an affront to God." his voice was low and firm as he stood up from the couch. He set his mug down on the table, quiet in his anger.

Dean suddenly looked more panicked than confused, "But Cas, man-"

"You're wrong, Dean Winchester," he grabbed his bag and tugged the door open, ignoring the returning throb of his pulse in his head from where he fell.

"Thanks for the coffee."


End file.
